


Lucky Us

by emiv



Series: Companion Pieces to The Longer You Stay [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: F/M, Family, Gen, Nolanverse!Robins, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:44:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emiv/pseuds/emiv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Selina was accustomed to long nights, but none quite like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Us

“He’s broken,” Selina said, falling onto the bed. Beside her, Bruce shifted.

“He’s not broken.”

The constant, high-pitched wail of their newborn continued to echo through the house.

“You sure about that?” Selina turned to her side, her eyes adjusting to the darkness of their bedroom. Bruce’s eyes were closed, but his voice was awake.  
  
“Yes.”

Selina frowned.

“I’ve tried everything,” she continued, combing her fingers through her hair. “Nothing’s worked.”

“Give it a second.”

She gave it several, but Damian’s cries continued, fading in and out in that same inconsolable pitch he’d held for hours.

 _It’ll pass,_ she told herself. _Just wait._

Selina shut her eyes, forced herself to stay put. She tried not to focus on the unhappy gurgling noises and pitiful, sharp intakes of air, tried not to imagine that small, puckered face and down-turned lips. The warm little body she’d spent the last hour rocking to no avail. The tug at her heart that was damn-near physical.

Selina sighed, moving to get up again; before she could, Bruce’s hand settled on her arm.

“I’ll go,” he said, climbing out of bed. Selina slid into his warm, empty spot as he left the room. She closed her eyes and waited.

“OK,” Bruce said, reentering the room. “He may be broken.”

Selina sat up and reached for the lamp on the night stand, watching Bruce squint as the room filled with soft light.

“You didn’t you pick him up?” she asked, eyeing his empty arms.

“I did,” Bruce said, settling on the edge of the bed beside her. There was a decided slump to his shoulders. “He cried harder.”

 _Two minutes and already defeated._ Selina shook her head and scooted closer. He sighed as she rested her chin against his shoulder. She glanced off with eyes unfocused, listening to their baby’s pitiful cries.

“Now what?”

Bruce’s gaze drifted to the nightstand, settling on his phone. Selina shook her head.

“No.”

“Why not?” Bruce asked, his face blank.

“Because it’s the middle of the night and the poor man’s retired,” Selina replied. Bruce looked down at her as if he didn’t comprehend. Selina rolled her eyes. “We can handle this,” she continued, and for a moment, she almost believed it.

Then Damian’s cries climbed another octave.

A soft huff from the hall caught Selina’s attention. She looked over to see Tim standing in their doorway, barefooted and in long pajamas, hands cupped over his ears.

“Loud,” was all the little boy said before coming inside and climbing into their bed. It creaked as Tim shifted under the covers; Selina watched him borrow his head under her pillow. She shook her head, turning back to Bruce.

“I don’t get it,” she said, her voice lowered. “He doesn’t usually go on for this long.” She stared at the far wall as if she could see through it and into the nursery. “He’s fed, changed. I’ve held him, rocked him, walked with him. Hell, I even sang.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“You _sang?_ ” 

“I was desperate.” Selina paused. “You think he’s sick?”

Bruce shook his head.

“No fever, no other symptoms,” he replied. “Cold?”

“I’ve changed his clothes twice.”

“Maybe he’s just grumpy,” came another voice. “I know I sure as hell am.”

Selina turned, seeing Jason in the hallway beyond their door, his brown hair disheveled, a pillow in one hand, the comforter from his bed slung over his arm.

“Heading for the couch?” she asked.

“Can you blame me, with that racket?” Jason replied, jerking his head toward the other end of the house. “Look, the kid’s cute and all, but seriously, _guys_ , make him stop.” 

Before either one of them could reply, Jason walked away, the edges of his comforter dragging across the floor behind him.

“Make him stop,” Selina repeated, massaging her temples. Beside her, Bruce snickered. The stairs creaked as Jason climbed down them. In the nursery, the crying continued, fading then ramping up again. Softer, louder, softer, like an abandoned car with a broken alarm.

“It’s a phase,” Bruce said. Selina looked up, trying not to glare at him.

“He’s eight weeks old, Bruce.”

“Babies have phases.”

“Oh, how the hell would you know?”

“It doesn’t hurt to be well informed.”

“Yes, because your obsessive-compulsive need to research everything is serving us so well at the moment,” Selina replied, her eyes narrowed. Bruce didn’t respond, his shoulders stiff. On the other side of the bed, Tim shifted, burrowing further under her pillow. Damian's stubborn, frustrated cries continued to carry down the hall.

They all needed sleep.

“He wants to sleep,” Selina said, rubbing her eyes. “He’s just being stubborn.”

Bruce snorted.

“I wonder where he gets that from.”

Selina glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Gee, I wonder.” She was about to continue but stopped; Damian’s high-pitched cries began to fade into soft whimpers. Selina waited, listening as the house fell silent again. On the other side of the bed, Tim sighed; she saw a thin arm reach out and yank the disheveled sheets higher.

“He stopped,” she said as the tension in her muscles ebbed. Another thought tugged at her brain. Her brow wrinkled as she turned back to Bruce. “Why did he stop?”

“He must have fallen asleep,” Bruce said.

“Must have,” she echoed.

“Which is good.”

“It’s great.”

“The only logical explanation,” Bruce said; Selina noticed the beginnings of a frown pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Right,” Selina replied, nodding even as she eyed the empty doorway. “No other reason.”

A moment later, she was on her feet.

So was Bruce.

“We should make sure.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to check.”

They made their way out of the room and down the hall, treading lightly out of long habit. Selina was just about at the nursery door when she heard a voice from inside. She froze mid-step, holding her hand up for Bruce to do the same.

“That’s it, Little D,” Dick whispered. “No more crying.”

Selina peaked around the corner. In the middle of the room stood their teenage son, cradling his baby brother somewhat awkwardly in his arms, bouncing gently. The tiny nightlight cast shadows on the walls, giving the room a faint glow.

The baby’s fussing had softened to hiccups as he began to drift. Selina watched Dick lean in close to Damian’s ear, as if telling him a secret.

“For such a little guy, you sure make a lot of noise.” She could hear the smile in Dick’s voice. “But it’s OK. We love you anyway.”

Bruce’s hand slipped warm into hers, pulling her attention away. She looked up, catching a soft smile on his lips, a crinkling at the corner of his eyes. He tilted his head, motioning her away from the door, toward their room. After a final glance into the nursery, Selina nodded. They tiptoed back to the master bedroom in the half-light.

Tim was still sprawled across Selina’s side of the bed, but he was still now, his breathing even. Careful not to wake him, Selina crawled into bed, staying close to Bruce. She sighed, letting her head rest against his shoulder and wrapping an arm across his chest. After a moment, he reached over and covered her hand with his.

“That kid really is good at everything, isn’t he?” Selina whispered. She felt Bruce nod.

“Lucky us,” he said.

Selina listened to her quiet house, to the sounds of boys stirring in sleep. Jason’s faint snoring from downstairs, Tim’s quiet, even breathing beside her. The floorboards in the hall creaked softly as Dick tiptoed back to bed, leaving a sleeping Damian, safe in his crib.

Exhaustion overtaking her, Selina smiled.

_Lucky us._


End file.
